Yesterday
and today are the same. It is winter. The sun has set and risen, just like it
has for millennia, just like it will for years more. But, since today
inaugurates the new calendar that you bought half-priced after Christmas or
received for free in the mail, it is a big deal to us humans. Time—we
live in it, but can’t quite grasp it, and anything we can’t grasp is
fascinating.
The birding
world is not immune to the turn of the year.
In fact,
birders are more excited than the average citizen about each New Year. No, we
don’t party late and spend January 1st with a hangover. Rather, we
turn in at 9:00PM in preparation for our early alarm to start the fresh year
list…
Yes, the
year list, that mortal list among the immortal county, state, birds-seen-while-peeing
lists. Every year, the clock is reset. Every birder’s year list goes back to
zero. Lots of birders keep meticulous tally of their year lists.
I’ve kept
my share. In fact, I was so excited by the idea when I first learned of it that
I started my year list right then and there, on September 17th,
200?. Eventually, I switched to the kosher start date.
The zenith
of my year-listing was 2009. I rabidly kept a Bigby list—a specialized year
list that only allows birds seen while walking or biking from home. A year of
collecting 283 species, only to lose them all when December changed to January…
When a
birder obsesses over his year list, it becomes a Big Year. The birding
community reveres those who have taken the quest to monumental proportions.
Kenn Kaufman in Kingbird Highway, Sandy Komito in The Big Year—the
Herculean efforts of these superstars inspire a fresh crop of year list junkies
annually. It can be a Big Year (ABA area), a Big Year in a state, a Big County
Year, or…
Or a Big
Year of birds seen by bike.
Anyway— each year, whether it is a Big Year or a Normal Year or a year without
a year list, is always kicked off by one bird, the first bird. “What was your
first bird of the year?” birders ask each other. It is the topic of many forum threads and Facebook posts.
I reflected
on this tradition as I wrote in my journal on New Year’s Eve. Hunched in my
chair, I tried to write but ended up nibbling my fingernails. First bird—what
will it be tomorrow morning?
Then I
heard the pattern: __-_-__---______-_______
No, it
couldn’t be—the window was shut. I set my journal on the desk and listened.
There it was again!
I reached
forward, slid the window open. Sat in silence.
whoo-whoo-whoo—hoooo-hoooo
Ah, a Great
Horned Owl. I glanced up and saw my reflection smiling at me in the window. A
good way to end the year. I sat and listened to the owl’s serenade. A second
owl joined in. They sang their throaty duet, an old married couple getting
friendly in preparation for another breeding season. I winked at my glassy
twin, wrote a few lines, and then crawled into bed.
It was 2014
when I emerged. I stumbled to the same window, cracked it open, and strained my
sleepy ears. The first sound to reach my ear was a warbling House Finch.
Another
year. I won’t have a list, but I still had a first bird.
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